


Repurposed, Reforged

by leporidae



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae
Summary: Upon being summoned to the Askran Kingdom by Kiran, Laevatein finds herself at a loss when she witnesses the camaraderie of the Order of Heroes.





	Repurposed, Reforged

**Author's Note:**

> People complain a lot about the Heroes characters not being very well fleshed out. I'd argue they're no better or worse than characters from mainline Fire Emblem games, but that's another can of worms. Point being is I have a lot of feelings about Laevatein regardless of how much development she winds up getting, and so I wanted to write a character study, because I love her dearly. I find her lack of self identity and detachment from her emotions interesting, unique for a female character, and more than a bit sad. (Plus, I adore her design.)

Her body materializes in a cloud of smoke, surrounded by prying eyes. Curious, fearful eyes.

“Is that…?”

A flash of blue hair shifts into view when the words are uttered. _That’s the Askran prince._ The thought floats to the forefront of Laevatein’s awareness without emotion, her mind simply providing her with the facts — as always. There’s no room in her consciousness to process the _why_ of the situation or  _how_ she’s feeling.

(Which is… _how,_ exactly?)

“Laevatein! From another world, but — it’s her!” This time it's the shrill voice of Sharena, and the princess’s smile is blinding, cutting through Laevatein's daze like light glinting off ice. She flinches, taking a wary step back. "It's okay! You're part of Kiran's army now — part of the Order of Heroes! Isn't that great? You can be friends with all of us! I mean, only if you want to, but — I'd love to be your friend!"

All around her the awestruck voices of the army overlap until they are nothing but a blur of sound, a dizzying hum, and Laevatein shrinks back when Sharena's cold hand alights on her exposed shoulder. Mutely she allows her body to be led towards the castle, lips pressed together and fingers trembling as she envisions her hand wrapped around the hilt of her blade, cutting down enemies on the battlefield. Because that is what she knows how to do — that is what she was  _born_ to do.

Not this.

* * *

_My sister can help me._

Whenever Laevatein runs into any sort of roadblock, that's the first and only solution that comes to mind. From the time she was little, Laevatein had been told by her father to defer to Laegjarn.  _Your job is to kill enemy soldiers. Not to think._ And Laevatein had always nodded mutely, because it made sense. Laegjarn's job is to _think_ ; Laevatein's job is to  _do._ There had never been a reason for them to stray from these roles.

Right now, amidst the Order of Heroes, Laevatein doesn't know what to do. Therefore, she will ask Laegjarn to provide the much-needed advice, and Laevatein will follow it without question. That's how it always was, and that's how it always will be.

_Always...?_

Laevatein finds her older sister outside the castle walls, but she is not alone. Beside her stands Fjorm, princess of Nifl and fellow member of the Order of Heroes. Immediately Laevatein bristles — aren't the two supposed to be sworn enemies? But, no, that's not quite right; the rules of her former homeland don't apply here. At the Askran castle, a hero's past doesn't define their usefulness or trustworthiness to the army. It is simply expected that if a hero emerged from Kiran's weapon, they will be accepted as a member of the army without question. That is the reason Laevatein and Laegjarn are acknowledged as allies here despite feuding with Nifl and Askr in their old world's timeline.

Laevatein shrinks back behind a pillar of stone, a churning feeling in her gut. The two young women are chatting without hostility, eyes bright and expressions soft. It confuses Laevatein, because she had always assumed that Laegjarn’s light laugh and secretive smile and affectionate words had only been reserved for _her,_ and she had never even considered that Laegjarn could harbor positive feelings towards another. And yet from afar she observes the natural way Laegjarn speaks to Fjorm, the relaxation of her body language, and the way she places her hand on the ice princess’s shoulder reassuringly. Even though she can’t make out her sister’s words, Laevatein can’t help but scowl. Something’s wrong. Something’s different. She doesn’t _understand._  

All she knows for certain is that Laegjarn can't be the solution to her distress, not anymore. Not when she's so far away, in a world that's impossible for Laevatein to comprehend.

She flees.

* * *

“...Veronica.”

The Emblian princess regards her with distaste, but it doesn’t bother Laevatein. The only person whose opinion has ever mattered is Laegjarn’s; a weapon of war has no need for validation, after all. “Why are you speaking to me?”

Laevatein has no solid answer to that question. She simply wants  _answers_ , to be told what purpose she fulfills in this kingdom, a world in which she's supposed to be an antagonist but is expected to act as the opposite. Veronica of all people is likely to have experienced this same confusion in the past, but now she seems much more at ease among the Order of Heroes. Laevatein is curious to know how that change came to be.

Instead answers the question with one of her own. “What is it like… to like?”

Veronica blinks, the facade of condescension momentarily giving way to perplexity. “Excuse me?”

Unfortunately, Laevatein has no idea how to better express the unease she’s feeling, and her gaze flickers to the ground. Having to rephrase a question requires _thought_ , and she had never been trained to think. _Let your sister handle the complicated affairs,_ her father had impressed upon her over and over. _You are but an extension of Laevatein, your sword. A weapon does not think, and nor should you._ “Uh —” The silence stretches for far too long, and for a moment she grows lightheaded, the claw of anxiety squeezing around her throat. “The Order of Heroes,” Laevatein manages finally. “Do you… _like_ them?

Veronica’s eyes crinkle in confusion, and a haughty _hmmph!_ leaves her lips, frowning at Laevatein as she would an enemy. "I have pledged loyalty to Kiran and their army," she says after a moment's hesitation. "Despite me sharing a face with someone they consider a villain, Kiran and the rest chose to put their trust in me. I feel it is only natural that I do the same for them. They have proven time and time again that they are willing to protect me like they would any other soldier."

"Loyalty..." Laevatein echoes. "So... being loyal to an army? That's what _liking_ is like?"

The Emblian princess squints back. "This is an absurd conversation. How am I supposed to tell you what you like? I don't even know what exactly you're asking — I don't think you do either, for that matter."

Laevatein's cheeks burns. "Never mind, " she mumbles, and before Veronica can berate her further, she turns away to make yet another escape.

_I guess this is all I'm good for: fighting and running away._

* * *

The roof of the castle is deserted at night, and chilly. Shivers wrack Laevatein’s body as she huddles with her knees pulled to her chest, watching stars that are familiar but not the same, similar patterns from a different version of her world.

Why had she been summoned here? Before being forcibly thrust into the Order of Heroes, Laevatein had never thought much about anything, and not by choice. Growing up Surtr had screamed at her whenever she showed the slightest crack in her armor, threatening to burn her flesh and throw the charred ashes aside if she dared repeat the transgression. And she had learned quickly, much like a tamed animal learns to avoid the behaviors that anger their master. _I am judged based on my performance. What I feel has no bearing on anyone._ That was the mantra she had repeated until it became reflex to think it, and after a while it became difficult to even conjure other thoughts.

Yet in the brief hours since her arrival in this version of the Askran kingdom, Laevatein had begun to feel the stirrings of many things. Loneliness, something she hadn’t even realized she  _could_ feel until she saw everyone surrounded by comrades. Jealousy, when she had witnessed Laegjarn fraternizing with Fjorm.

And amidst it all, something that may or may not have been _hope_.

“Laevatein? Is that you?”

The voice of Alfonse breaks through her thoughts, and she grimaces. “Mm.” _If I don’t look at him, maybe he’ll go away —_

No such luck. She hears his footsteps grow closer, and the warmth of his body pulses beside her as he sits down, a small pocket of heat amidst the night's frost. “Sharena was worried about you.”

“But _you’re_ here.”

“I came looking for you.”

“You’re not Sharena.”

Alfonse frowns. “You… you’re very straightforward, aren’t you?”

She blinks, unable to grasp what he’s getting at. “Am I?”

Alfonse sighs. “Never mind. You don’t have to sit alone, you know.”

She doesn't respond.

“There’s an extra portion of dinner for you if you come down,” he adds.

Laevatein considers this. Interacting is painful, but eating is practical. “What’s for dinner?”

“Er — potatoes, I believe?”

“I like potatoes.”

The two sit in silence after that, each uncertain how to continue the interaction with the other. Absently Laevatein picks at a scuff mark on her shoe, the soft scratching filling an otherwise frigid silence. Alfonse still hasn’t tried speaking to her again, and she isn’t certain whether she feels relieved or disappointed.

She _does_ like potatoes, though.

_Ah — something I like...?_

“Let’s go eat.” She abruptly stands, gaze still trained on the horizon, and hears the shuffling of cloth as Alfonse rises.

“I’m not the best at this,” Alfonse blurts, and only then does Laevatein turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting, as though speaking to her is physically painful. “I still don’t fully trust you, or your sister. But I’m — I’m trying.” His brow furrows, and Laevatein finds herself experiencing what may be the first inklings of sympathy, another novel sentiment.

Laevatein sighs softly. How can she already be so tired after only several minutes of interaction? Fitting in here is exhausting. “I don’t fully trust you either,” she admits. “But it's good you feel the same. I don’t want to be the only one having problems here.”

Alfonse laughs nervously. “Um — I guess that’s good, then.”

“Alfonse.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you also… like potatoes?”

He blinks. “Ah — yes. Yes, I do.”

A weight lifts off her chest. "Oh... I found something that makes us similar. That means I’m not different from everyone else here, right?”

Alfonse smiles, still a bit awkward but with less trepidation than before. “There are plenty of people in the Order who like potatoes,” he teases. “We may even run into them while we’re eating.”

It’s as though a door in Laevatein’s mind has creaked open. All she had to do was ask a silly question, and suddenly everything seems less isolated than before, just knowing someone has agreed with her. People have preferences, people are individuals, but that doesn't mean there's no overlap. If she explores her new home, maybe she'll find more things she likes, and in turn she will be able to talk to the people who like those things.

_Had it really been that easy all along?_

The Askran prince is still smiling, and Laevatein realizes that Laegjarn had already discovered this on her own. Perhaps Fjorm had reached out to Laejgarn, too, and they had discovered commonalities between them. Suddenly Laevatein's sickening feeling of jealousy gives way to a bit of understanding as she watches Alfonse. Talking to someone other than her sister had been uncomfortable and completely out of her element, but it hadn't actually been _bad_.

“It's too cold out here. Let's go inside."

Yes, she likes potatoes. And that's a good a start as any.


End file.
